Over
by PenguinOfTroy
Summary: His confession is a slap to the face. A burning, stinging slap that sets her mind reeling. Like the proverbial chair has been pulled out from under her, she crashes to the ground. Hard. So she slaps him back. Hard. For real. ONE-SHOT


_DISCLAIMER: "Castle" and all its wonderful characters are the property of ABC and Andrew Marlowe. Much as I enjoy playing with them, I unfortunately do not own them. Please don't sue me._

His confession is a slap to the face. A burning, stinging slap that sets her mind reeling. Like the proverbial chair has been pulled out from under her, she crashes to the ground. Hard.

So she slaps him back. Hard. For real. And when he flinches away, bringing his hand to his mouth to dab at his lip, she sees blood.

"You..."

She has no words. No breath with which to express them even if she did. Nothing. Just shock.

"I didn't want to keep this from you," he reaches for her hands, mouth locked in a concerned frown, but she pulls back. Even the shadow of his skin burns. She whirls away, off of the couch, towards the far end of the room. Away.

"You..." She chokes, can't get it out. The shock is coursing through her, pounding in her brain like a drum.

He stands and tries to approach, but she matches him with backwards steps until she hits the bookcase.

"I had to, Kate. Please understand, I had to keep it hidden or-"

"You had to? You had-" She feels nauseous. Her head sways and she brings her hand up to steady the rocking.

The pieces fall into place like bricks. Heavy and solid, they slam into her mind, until the picture becomes clear.

He knew.

She thought he'd been standing beside her. A support. But that was all a lie. He wasn't a support. He was an obstacle. A barrier. A wall.

"I had to. They were going to kill you," he urges, voice strained. "Unless I kept it from you. They were going to kill you."

She hears the truth in his voice but it doesn't matter. All her talk of being better, of living beyond her mother's death was hollow. Easily punctured by this knife in her back.

The evidence that wasn't there. The leads she couldn't follow. The paths that were cast in shadow. It was all him. His illusions, his tricks of light kept her from pushing forward. His assurance that everything would come in time, his empty promise, thwarted her quest for justice.

He'd blindfolded her, spun her around, and nudged her in the wrong direction. And she let him. Because she trusted him. Because she loved him.

She turns her back. Kicks the chair, sending it tumbling and skittering across the hard wood with an almighty crash. And she screams into her hands. A wretched, ragged, frustrated cry. Her eyes squeeze tight against the sound and the sharp pain in her chest as her heart clenches.

"You had no right," she barks.

"I was protecting you!" He sounds so earnest, but the words don't connect. They get lost in muddle of thoughts, in the swirling emotions. She trusted him. And he betrayed her. Another in a growing list of betrayals.

"I don't need to be protected."

"Yes, you do," he urges. "You need to be protected from yourself. And the people you care about? They need protecting from you to. You don't know what you're dealing with!"

He's speaking but she doesn't hear him over the roar of the whirlwind of anger rushing past. He hurls names at her – Montgomery, Ryan, Esposito, Martha, Alexis, her dad. They batter against her, denting and bruising, but they don't break the skin.

"I won't stop."

"You have to."

"I won't stop."

"Don't do this, Kate. Don't throw it all away." He stands and his frustration is palpable. But she's having none of it. It pales in comparison to her blinding fury. "They'll kill you."

"Let them try."

"They already have!"

They stand at opposite ends of the room. The tension sucking all the air out of the space between them. An impasse.

"See reason for once in your life. End this," he pleads.

She sees the pain in his eyes and she know that he loves her. He loves her too much. And she loves him. More than she'd care to admit. But love isn't always enough.

"Get out," she growls, voice steeled by her a furious resolve to stand her ground.

"Kate, open your eyes!"

"Get out."

She points to the door and they both know it's more than just request to leave. It's a command – to stay away.

His shoulders fall and he turns towards it. And she aches, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, because she knows she's about to lose her best friend. The best thing that ever happened to her is about to walk out, away from her, at her own request. But she can't forgive this offense. She can't look at him, she can't touch him, she can't _love_ him with this new barrier in the way.

She's spent her adult life working towards this one thing. It's bigger than her and it's bigger than him. She can't let it go. Will never let go. And maybe that's years worth of therapy going down the drain, but she won't let him be the thing that stands in her way. She's too far down the rabbit hole. Well past the point of no return.

His face is pained. And it hurts just to look at him. To know that they shared for however brief a moment, was beautiful and perfect. To know that his heart is breaking, just like hers.

But the specter of her mother's murder, of secrets and lies and harsh truths, hangs dark overhead. And there is no going forward without it.

And it's cruel – so cruel – to have to choose. But she chooses her mother. She chooses her mother every time. It's a lonely choice. But it's hers. Her burden to bear. He should have known that by now.

He looks ready to beg. But he doesn't. Because he sees now. He sees that they were doomed from the start.

She tries to hold back the tears. She doesn't want to him to witness her break down. But her face pulses in pain. And though she screws her eyes shut tightly, they leak through anyways.

He looks shell-shocked as he walks past her.

"I-" he begins. But there's no use. The words are done. They can't rewrite this ending. He can't wave his hand and make it all better. And she can't wave her hand and raise her mother from the dead.

She shows him the door and they both know this is it. No going back. No rewriting the story. It's finished. They're finished. Sad. Tragic. Over.

**A/N – I think the fluff monster got eaten by the angst monster here...**

**Confession time: I hated myself, just a bit, for ending Routines the way I did. I set out to explore loss and it became something else entirely. I caved into requests from readers and my own desire to redeem the angst. So I wrote the happy ending, and to be honest I loved how it ended, it was the right ending. But I still hated myself for it. So I'm saying it loud and clear: This is it. There is no happy ending. Just this sad little one-shot about what can happen when love isn't enough.**

**Thanks to dave-ck, fooxoo, and trinxy for the beta-ing.**

**As always, please review. Even a simple "like" or "dislike" is very much appreciated.**

**Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone **


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